


Darkside

by ExMachina187, MarsCosta



Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Halloween, One Shot, Riverdale V&V, Sex, Smut, Vampire Turning, Vampires, first attempt at writing stuff like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 23:16:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16438697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExMachina187/pseuds/ExMachina187, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarsCosta/pseuds/MarsCosta
Summary: Jughead has had centuries to reflect on his life, but none of it had meaning until she came along.(Written for Day 3 of Halloween Week - Riverdale Vices&Virtues)





	Darkside

**Author's Note:**

> This has been on the works almost the whole month, and it's probably the result of the crush I had on vampires while growing up (I mean, I was part of the Twilight and Vampire Diaries generation, so...).  
> And the title of this work, as well as the story itself, was based on the song "Darkside" by Alan Walker.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks are in order for @Exmachina187, without her this wouldn't have seen the light of day. 
> 
> And a huge thank you to @Squids for betaing this! 
> 
> This is for Riverdale Vices and Virtues Day 3: Greed & Charity (vampires)

* * *

 

 

**_ "We're not in love. We share no stories. Just something in your eyes." _ **

 

_London, Present Day._

From where he stands against the balcony door, the brisk, post-rain night air invades his senses. Jughead watches the blonde beauty in his bed with a sense of appreciation and growing arousal, even though their post-coital bliss still lingered between them. The dark silk sheets that are only covering her middle -- leaving her long, creamy legs and her delicious milky breasts exposed -- contrast perfectly with her flawless pale complexion, and something about her reminds him of a Greek marble statue. 

Just like the statues, her body, her curves, are nothing less than perfection, as if she had been molded by an artist. 

Even though it happened a little over a hundred years ago, Jughead never forgot the day he first saw Elizabeth Cooper.

 

_Riverdale, NY, 1920_

She was, even as a human, a sight to behold, in a lavender embroidered dress, and a pretty floppy sun hat. Over the centuries, he had seen many stunning beauties, but none had quiet compared to her, with that kind of classic, untainted delicacy. 

Him being in her hometown had been unplanned. His hunger came to him unexpectedly the night before, and after draining a wayward traveler dry, he decided to stick around just until the morning, only to be sure his tracks had been covered. The following day was a Sunday, and in small towns like this one, the best place to know if anyone would notice the disappearance of the man he had killed, was the church. Attending the mass was not only a means to reassurance but also for him, an amusing act of defiance since the few that still believed in creatures of the night thought such demons could not enter holy ground. 

Oh, how wrong they were.

Jughead had watched her from the back of the small chapel, his trained and superior vision taking in her elegant posture, the graceful way she moved, and how eloquently she smiled. He also noticed how her smile had faltered when the man beside her wrapped an arm around her waist, kissing the top of her head. It bothered him, and not because he cared -- creatures like him had no feelings, whatsoever -- but because in a practical way, anyone who just hurt an innocent woman for no reason, other than the fact that he simply could, was more of a monster than he would ever be. 

However, he knew better than to meddle in human affairs.  _ “There’s a tide in the affairs of men…”,  _ and that tide would drown him like it had drowned many before.  __

He had waited for the sun to set before continuing his journey; he never traveled during daylight hours unless he had no other choice, because while the sun didn’t kill him, it irked him, made him feel weaker, hungrier, moodier. He was already nearing the outskirts of town when he heard screaming, shouting, angry shoving sounds. 

The source of it was a large Victorian house. He moved through the shadows and stood in front of the window, peering inside. Much to his astonishment, in the large sitting room, was the young woman from church. Jughead realized he had been right in his earlier observations, as he watched the man shake her violently, fingers digging and bruising the pale and soft skin of her upper arms. 

The scene brought back a memory from several lifetimes ago, and for a second, he saw a woman with jet black hair and dull green eyes getting the beating that would mark the end her life. However, unlike the woman in his fading nightmares, the woman he was watching had a fierce fire in her eyes, and she was struggling against her aggressor, trying to break away from his clutches. Somehow, she managed to free one of her hands, her nails clawing at his face, leaving jagged, bloody scratches behind. 

As someone able to move faster than any other creature, the next sequence of events seemed to happen in slow motion. The man pushed her hard, sending her frail body flying across the room and Jughead heard the exact moment her skull hit the fireplace stone, the sickening crack resonating deep in his ears. Then, he smelled it, the sweet and rich smell of warm, intoxicating blood.

He was moving before he noticed. Entering the house, he pushed the attacker away as hard as he could and ran to her side. The blood pouring from the back of her head was already surrounding her golden locks as a gruesome and deadly halo, looking nearly black against her porcelain skin. Her breaths were shallow and labored, and her heart was pounding, sounding as loud as a drum to him. She was dying. And while he liked to avoid swimming in the tide of human affairs, Jughead simply couldn’t bring himself to just let the fire in her eyes be extinguished by such an ordinary and vile act of violence. 

Taking a deep breath, he followed his instincts, allowing his body to react to the smell of her blood. As his fangs came out, he lowered his head to her neck, biting just above her pulse point. Warm blood flooded his mouth, the taste reminding him of the young wine from the south of France, made from the first harvest that left an aftertaste of spring flowers, wild berries, and moonlight. As he drank, Jughead focused his mind on the sound of her heart. 

The once rapid and desperate beatings gradually started to slow. When her skin turned cold and her body became heavily relaxed against his arms, he stopped. When he looked at her, her clear green eyes were fixed on him, and he held her gaze, as he bit down on his wrist, blood trickling down his arm while he moved to press the wound against her lips. It only took a moment before she opened her mouth, drinking his unholy, poisonous blood like it was ambrosia. 

Knowing when she had had enough, he pulled his wrist from her. She tried to fight, but in no time, her body went limp, her eyes finally closing as his blood worked inside her veins. Transformations never ceased to amaze him. Watching the changes take place, seeing life and its flaws being replaced by immortality was hypnotic. 

Effortlessly, he took her body in his arms, setting her on the chaise longue by the window. When she woke up a few hours later, after calming her down, he explained to her what had happened. 

“You were dying. I gave you a chance to choose. This can be the beginning of your life. If you want, you can live forever. You will be strong and powerful like me, but you will need to drink human blood to survive, now and for the rest of your days. On the other hand, if you wish to resign to your fate, and die, you can either wait for the sunset or I can end this for you. It’s your choice.“

The silence that followed was deafening. And then, she spoke, and he understood that the fire he had seen in her eyes came from the depths of her soul. 

“I don’t want this to be how my story ends. I can’t let him take my life from me, not when he already took so much. This is not how my story ends.”

He offered her his hand. She took it, standing strong. A second later, Jughead saw it hit her. The hunger. The bloodlust. Her words had hit him deep, and in an impulse, he took her to the basement, where he had trapped the despicable human being that would have killed her if not for his intervention. 

“To complete the transition, you need to feed. You have to take a human life. I can find someone else if you want, but either way, this is his last night.” 

If she didn’t do it, he would gladly kill the scum, not minding the role of judge and executioner. 

There had been no hesitation.

“I’ll do it _. _ ” She said. 

Forcing her wimpy husband to his feet, Jughead held him against his body, pulling his hair hard to tilt his head, so she could bite down on his neck. Still full from feeding on her earlier, he didn’t drink, barely affected by the smell of blood. 

“Come closer. Take a deep breath. Close your eyes. Can you feel that? How your throat is burning? Imagine that heat spreading through your veins, to your entire body. Focus on that fire. Let it be the only thing you’re feeling. Let it consume you.” 

She did what he told her to, her fangs appearing for the first time, while her green eyes became black, pupils swallowing the irises.

“ _ All you have to do is drink.”  _

He had watched, awestruck as she drank with more grace than any recently turned vampire usually did and with more mercy than he would have shown the bastard. Midst feeding, their eyes met again. He could see it, he could feel it. She was letting go of the light, embracing the shadows and falling into the darkness.

 

_London, Present Day._

“Juggie?” Her voice brought him back from memory lane, and he looked at her. “What are you doing there, looking so pensive?” 

“I was thinking about you, actually.” 

“Really?” She asks, a teasing edge to her voice, and leaning up against the headboard, she slowly removes the sheet from her body. “What were you thinking about? This?” 

Each word in her question was punctuated with gestures. First, her hands cup her breasts, bringing them together, before pinching her rosy pink nipples. 

“Or this?” Her left-hand trails down her abdomen to her aching sex, stopping as her middle finger dips between her folds. 

His jeans are suddenly too tight, his cock coming to life as he watches her. 

In a split second, he’s on her, between her legs, kissing her hungrily as she rubs herself against the rough material of his jeans, desperately seeking friction. 

“I was remembering how we met,” he said pulling away from her lips for just a second, but before he could kiss her again, her hands were on his chest pushing him away. 

“Why the hell would you be thinking about that?” Her tone had changed from playful and sultry to bored and annoyed. 

“I was appreciating you, Betts, lying here looking stunning and so sexy. And I remembered you, and how far you've come.” She gave him a teasing smile as she bit down on her lower lip. 

“I would say immortality suits me, don't you agree?” Betty rotated her hips to grind against him again, and lowering his head their lips met one more time. 

Saying immortality suited her was the understatement of the century. Even though Jughead had met and made hundreds of vampires, Betty had been one of the few who had  _ embraced  _ life as an immortal. It was like she had been made for it. 

While vampires weren't plagued by human emotions, their physical sensations were stronger, heightened and the first few years were usually the hardest ones, during which one had to learn how to live with the cacophony of awareness and the bloodlust.

He usually mentored every newly turned vampire, helping them navigate their new existence, but Betty… Betty had been different from the very beginning and soon, she became more, a pupil, a disciple, and he had not been able to merely mentor her in the basics. She had become his right hand, his best creation. And while he wasn't one to indulge in physical sensations, not wanting to allow those to dominate them like they dominate many of his fellow vampires, Jughead had only been able to resist the urge to have her for five decades. 

The night he caved had been a night like any other. As they usually did, at least once a week, Jughead had gone on a feeding with her. What was commonly just a  _ ‘bite and go’  _ turned into something he had only experienced a handful of times - the last being with his best friend and her girlfriend, one of the most memorable nights of his life. 

 

_New York, 1970_

They had gone to a nightclub -- inebriated teenagers were the easiest prey of them -- and instead of making it quick, Betty had insisted they danced and drank a little. He had only agreed because he had been hungry and alcohol normally helped with the cravings and the bloodlust. After dancing for a while, Betty found someone who interested her, and much to his surprise, it had been a girl instead of the usual muscular and dumb boys. 

He had watched them dance with an uncharacteristic interest, and when Betty convinced the human to go outside for a breather, he followed them out keeping a safe distance to not make the girl suspicious. 

He had watched, mesmerized as she had kissed the girl hard on the lips, her hands wandering teasingly, but all the while, her green eyes had stayed glued to his and something about it ignited a flame inside him. 

She was soon over with the foreplay, and just as she had bitten down on the girl's neck, eyes closing at the marvelous feeling of fresh blood filling her mouth, her eyes were opened again and she offered him her hand in a silent invitation. 

He didn't say no. He couldn't say no. He didn't have it in him to say no. 

He accepted her hand and was by her side in an instant, tilting the human’s head slightly so he too could bite down on her neck. He drank with his eyes wide open, watching Betty as she watched him and the eroticism of it turned him the hell on. 

He felt arousal seep through his veins as he stared into the sea of emerald green swirling around with flecks of gold and his pupils dilated to match hers. His eyes were nearly as black as his luscious, long locks of hair, shining in the moonlight. He could hear her heart starting to beat rapidly and the faint smell of her liquid arousal overcame his senses, pulling him towards her like a moth to a flame.

As they finished their meal, he quickly went through the motions of how to deal with a dead body, and then they were speeding through the dark streets, back home. They barely made it through the door before being all over each other, unbothered by the other vampires in the same building that could undoubtedly hear them. Her lips tasted like honey, and her skin felt like satin against his hands. 

Some of his vampires, the ones he had turned and trained, had left after a few decades, moving on to whatever came next in their immortality. Others, stayed close, as close as possible for creatures driven not by feelings and emotions but by a sense of loyalty towards their creator. Betty had never shown any signs of wanting to leave, and if he thought about it, all roads, starting from the moment where he transformed her, had brought them here. To this night, to this precise moment, to her in his arms, and to their mouths together, their tongues tangled in a sweet and hot dance.

They stumbled their way into his master bedroom, already half naked, clothes long forgotten on their way upstairs and down the long corridors. He nipped and sucked on her neck as they fell onto his mattress. Only two dim bedside lamps illuminated the room, and the dim light bathed them with a subtle white glow. 

He pulled her dress up and off, throwing it aside to join the rest of their discarded clothing. He was captivated by the beautiful expanse of her alabaster skin. He leaned back, clutching the pure white duvet and pulling it above their heads. The effect of the dim lighting shined through, making it look like there was an ethereal halo glowing around her, moreover she looked like an angel.  __

His mouth descended back onto her lips with such force that it took her breath away and she whimpered when he dragged her bottom lip between his teeth. The sound spurred him on. He started moving lower, biting, kissing and sucking ravenous marks on her body, that would appear darker later and would remind her of how he had sent her into blissful oblivion. 

He groaned at the thought of claiming her to all the creatures as  _ his.  _ When he wrapped his lips around her nipple, she felt the sound reverberating through her body, shooting straight to where she ached for him. He reached the apex of her thighs, hovering above where she craved him most, breathing heavily over her and the cool air hit warm flesh making her whimper. 

“I hope you’re not too fond of these.”  He teased her, jutting his chin out towards her skimpy lace panties, already damp and barely doing anything to hide how aroused she was. 

She shook her head vigorously, the mere thought had her at the edge already. He gripped it with his teeth, his sharp canines grazing the sensitive skin above her clit, just teasing before pulling it aside and giving her sex a long, lingering look before gazing heatedly and intensely into her eyes. 

Betty watched him lean down and give her a probing, tentative lick, tasting her for the first time, savoring it like a starved man at a feast. He groaned at the salty-sweet tang and went head first into her with his tongue, swirling around her clit, and laying his tongue flat against her, teasing her slit again and again teasingly slow. She cried out silently, closing her eyes while taking in the intense sensations coursing through her. 

Of course, Betty wasn’t a virgin. She had been married for two years, but with her  _ late  _ husband, she had never known what pleasure was or what it should feel like. He had never even bothered with any foreplay, simply headed straight into third base with no respect for her body or for what she was feeling. She was always left unsatisfied and empty, feeling used. 

Back then, in her human years, she had always feared the idea of finishing herself off, years of religious and social censure keeping her from daring to commit what was considered to be an unforgivable sin. After becoming a vampire, everything had changed, not only what she was, but her beliefs, her ethics, and overall sense of right and wrong. 

She had explored her body, learning what she liked and what made her lose it completely, but nothing had prepared her for this, for being touched by a man in the way Jughead touched her. She didn’t know if sex was supposed to be this good for everyone or if it was just him, but whatever it was, even though she doesn’t have a lot of experience to compare, she knows it has to be him and his skilled tongue. 

Jughead felt her walls quivering and tightening around his tongue as she tried desperately to clench around it and he replaced it with two fingers, flicking his tongue against her clit with purpose. In no time, she came with a cry, pouring onto his fingers and he sucked on her, drinking her up until she came down from her high.

He moved back upwards and kissed her. Betty gasped and his tongue pushed possessively inside. She could taste herself on his tongue and moaned. He bucked his hips against hers, rubbing his arousal against her sensitive flesh making them both whimper. He couldn't wait any longer, so he leaned back and looked down at Betty, silently asking for her consent, which she gladly gave to him without protest. 

She wrapped her legs around his torso, and pulling his face to her; she kissed him fervently. He pushed slowly into her, her heat encasing him as he felt her tight walls adjust themselves around his pulsating erection. They groaned in unison as he filled her completely for the first time.

He stilled, waiting for her to adjust to him. He started pulling out painstakingly slow and then bucked into her, burying himself to the hilt and pulling out gently once again. Jughead continued thrusting into her, maintaining the relentless rhythm he’d set. Her cries of pleasure echoing in his eardrums, keeping him going through the physical pain of exhaustion.

He sucked and bit on her earlobe, kissing his way down her neck, making his way to her breasts. He pawed at her left as he took the right nipple in his mouth, sucking and grazing his fangs over the hardened peak.

Then with a devilish grin, Betty hooked her leg up on his hip, flipping them so she could straddle him, gaining control. They both moaned at the change in position, and Jughead's hands immediately found her breasts again. He gripped and massaging as his thumbs soothed her hard nipples. The change of position and the way his hands explored her sent heat to her core, nearly sending her over the edge for the second time. He moved his hands lower on her ass, squeezing and grinding her hips down harder on his.   
  
He could tell by the sound of her heartbeat that she was close, so with his hands firmly on her waist, Jughead sat up. Betty groaned loudly, throwing her head back, feeling him even deeper inside her, hitting every spot all at once. He pressed his fingers against her clit, rubbing gingerly, then pinched it between the knuckles of his index and middle finger. She came gloriously, erupting around his cock, screaming and moaning his name like a mantra as she did.

She leaned her forehead on his shoulder, and he fell back on the bed with his arms wrapped around her. She rose and he pulled out from her and she fell back on the bed beside him. He pulled her to his side and held her silently, their breathing shallow, still recovering from their great release. After their super intense orgasms, neither had the energy to move their limbs still tangled as sleep claimed them. 

 

_London, Present Day._

They hadn’t stopped since, and in seven decades,  Jughead always made sure their encounters were special and unbelievably amazing for her. It was almost sacred, how their bodies became one, and they could be themselves hidden from the judgments of everyone else. 

Outside, in the real world, he looked so mighty and strong just as a leader should, ruling over his sire line with an iron fist, while always being righteous and making sure to protect those who belonged to him. However, it was when they were alone, in the peace and intimacy of the bedroom, that his true personality shone through the armor he wore all day. 

He was gentle and loving and, at first, it had been a bit of shock to see him going back to his usual tough and cold exterior the next day. It would always leave her flushed when she would remember how he had her thoroughly sated after the nightly sexcapades, and then, sometimes, she’d catch him giving her a soft, small smile when he thought no one was looking.

As they lay back, relaxed and sated, Betty curled up at his side with her head tucked under his chin. Jughead let out a contented sigh. 

“Jug?” She said quietly, breaking the silence. He looked at her, liking how her body was snuggled up against his and how her sparkling green eyes looked up at him with her golden hair splayed across his chest as he combed his fingers through them. “Do you ever think about forever?” 

“Forever has been a reality for a long time. I don't think about it as much as I did in my first centuries. You won't either  as the years go by.” 

Betty nodded in silence, again resting her head on his chest, seeming to be lost in her thoughts.

“There are some days when my mind seems to go back in time, and I remember things from when I was human, or from my first decade as a vampire. I don't feel anything when the memories come and it's just...” She said after a while. “How do you deal with everything?”

“It has been seven hundred years, Betts. Over the centuries, I had my share of friends, enemies, lovers, losses, and triumphs. The memories will come and go in waves. At some point, they all began to run together, becoming just a blur. Human memories sometimes get stuck in our minds, but it helps if you try to focus on the good things you do and experience. The real moments, the moments of real beauty, are vibrant spots that never fade, shining over the blur.” He pauses, looking down at her. “I guess that's how I deal.”

Again, Betty saw who he really was behind the leader facade and she couldn't help but smile. 

“Have I ever thanked you for this?” 

Jughead looks at her. “For what?”

“For this life. For forever.” He shakes his head. 

“You don't need to thank me, Betty.” Smiling, she moves from his side, her face hovering over his, their lips just a few centimeters apart. 

“Yes, I do. You're my creator, my savior, my sire. And I know just how to thank you.” She captures his mouth with hers, in a promise of companionship, not only for now but for years and centuries to come. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Criticism is always appreciated. Please, leave a kudo or a comment to let us know what you think. It means a lot and it only takes a minute.


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